Fic: No Retreat, No Surrender (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 1 of 2
Title: No Retreat, No Surrender
Author: smalltrolven
Artist: bluefire986
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean, established
Wordcount: 7235
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2020 Wincest Reverse bang. A curtain fic interrupted. Thank you to bluefire986 for the inspiring artwork and story idea, it was amazing to get a chance to write for this!
Summary: After everything with Chuck is over, Sam and Dean move up to Rufus’ cabin in Montana, to finally retire. After the hunting life they’ve led, they know there’s plenty of people and monsters left out there that have a score to settle. All the monsters forgotten, memories avoided and choices made in the past make what happens next even worse.
Read it over on AO3 right here.
Check out the awesome Art Masterpost on LiveJournal or AO3.
*****
Sam and Dean thought after the whole Chuck thing, it was finally time to hang it up. Jack and Cas were doing well running things out of the bunker, and it suddenly seemed too busy and crowded in their own home. Time to quit while they were ahead (or at least alive).
They moved into Rufus’ cabin, up in Whitefish, just over the line from Canada. There was a lot to be fixed up around the place. They had to get the garage setup and usable for Baby before winter arrived. Dean also put a lot of work into updating the barely adequate kitchen since he’d gotten used to the nice one at the bunker. Sam built a lot of bookcases to hold all the books he’d brought along with him and installed a satellite on the roof to get better wifi.
All was well until it was not.
Sam was gone down into town on his weekly supply run. Usually this involved visits to the library, post office and grocery store. Normally Dean would have joined him, just to get out and about and have a chance to drive Baby. But this morning he’d happened to have slept in. Something about being thoroughly fucked into the mattress the night before. He was enjoying a peaceful morning on their front porch, finishing his third cup of coffee. It was nice not having Sam there to give him a hard time about excessive caffeine consumption.
All of a sudden the coffee had gotten to him, so he left his mug on the porch railing and hotfooted it to the bathroom. He took care of business quickly and then returned to the porch. The coffee had cooled a little so he drank the rest of it in one go. Time to get something done. Seemed like a good day to work on Baby. He noticed a strange aftertaste in his mouth as he headed back in to get the kitchen cleaned up after breakfast and to get the refrigerator ready to be refilled when Sam returned.
At first he just felt woozy, maybe from standing up too quickly? But then he had to grab onto the edge of the quartz countertop he’d installed last month. The slick edge didn’t give him much of a gripping surface and he went down, trying to roll and protect his head was the last thought he had. Until it all went to black.
***
Sam returned earlier than he’d thought he’d be able to manage, he was looking forward to seeing Dean’s face light up with the bag of barbecue sandwiches he’d brought home from Snuffy’s. Dean was always going on and on about how they were as good as anything they’d ever eaten down in Texas. Sam knew that was because the owners were actually Texas natives who’d moved up to Whitefish for the much cooler weather. Sam agreed with Dean that Bud and Jim sure knew how to cook the hell out of a brisket or a side of ribs.
Unfortunately Dean didn’t seem to be around. It would have been nice to have the help, working with only one arm. Having re-injured his shoulder it was back in a sling again which made life a little harder. Sam shrugged and unloaded the groceries, packing the refrigerator with a week’s worth of food and beer. Dean kept threatening to start home brewing now that he had the time. Sam reminded himself that the day they celebrated as their anniversary was coming up, maybe that would be a good present for him this year. A brewing kit was probably something he could find on Amazon.
He noticed that the refrigerator hadn’t been cleaned out and rearranged like Dean usually did before they did the weekly re-stock. Strange. And Dean’s dirty coffee cup was on the counter, right near the edge, instead of in the dishwasher. Also strange. It would have been nice for Dean to keep up with the usual housework chores, especially since Sam couldn’t do too much because of his shoulder re-injury.
Sam got an icepack for his now aching shoulder out of the freezer and settled down to read one of his new library books out on the porch, the weather was so beautiful on this early spring day, it was unusually warm. He caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway of the garage and thought it must be Dean. Of course he’d be out in there working on the car like always. He set down his book and went back into the kitchen to grab the barbecue sandwiches while they were still warm, and a couple of Del Sol’s.
The garage lights weren’t on which seemed strange. Why would Dean be in here fumbling around in the dark? He called out, “Hey, got us some lunch!” as he passed through the door. He was setting down the bottles and sandwiches on the corner of the workbench when he heard heavy footsteps and then something hit him hard. He felt the blow across the back of his skull, heard a loud crack and then he was falling into the black.
***
Sam came to all in a rush, bursting out through the blackness and right back into a whole mess of pain. His head felt like it was splitting open, something…there had been someone in their garage.
He looked around, wincing at the pain of moving his head. He was chained to a chair, and still had his sling on, but his shoulder was throbbing, probably from falling when he’d gotten knocked out. It stank in this place, like copper and rank water, damp like a cellar or a basement. He finally spotted Dean on the rough cement floor, somewhat behind him, shackled around the neck to a metal pole that seemed to be holding up the ceiling. His brother’s face was bloodied and beaten, his knuckles in a terrible state, indicating he’d fought back at some point. The metal collar around his neck seemed much too tight. Was he even breathing?
Dean moaned and shifted, answering Sam’s question, but didn’t open his eyes.
“Dean?” Sam whispered.
“Mmm okay, Sammy, just another ten,” Dean slurred, eyes still shut.
“Dean, wake up, we’re in trouble,” Sam whispered, a little more urgently. He rattled the chains keeping him tied to the chair, he noticed that unfortunately the chair had a metal frame, which would be much harder to break. The cuffs around his wrists looked familiar, like the en-spelled ones that they had used on Crowley all those years ago.
Dean just grunted and tried to turn over. The rattle of the chains attached to his collar seemed to wake him up the rest of the way. His eyes snapped open, searching the four corners of the room, quickly coming to rest on Sam.
“Shit, the fucker got you too. I was hoping you were out there somewhere tracking me down,” Dean said.
“Who got me? What’s going on?” Sam asked.
“It’s a vamp, one who was apparently bonded to that giant cage fighter dude, Maul.”
“The one Garth offed?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, that’s the one, so the guy who took us, he’s looking for revenge. Thinks we were the ones who killed Maul.”
“Well, that’s better than him going after Garth I guess. But how do we get out of this?”
“You are not going to get out of this or anything else,” a deep voice said from the darkness at the end of the cellar. “Might as well give up now and get used to idea.”
“Eh, buzz off, Twilight,” Dean said, still lying on the floor.
Sam was wondering why Dean hadn’t sat up yet, and then he saw his brother’s left arm, it was obviously broken, his hand was essentially pointing the wrong way and too much blood soaked his jacket from the elbow on down. Sam knew right then and there that it was going to be up to him to get them out of this situation. Okay then, game on.
“Who are you?” Sam asked, trying to get the guy’s attention on him instead of taking Dean’s bait and beating on him even more. “My brother tells me that you’re a friend of Maul’s? He was a hell of a cage fighter, really impressive.”
“You keep his name out of your mouth, stinking bag of blood,” the vamp hissed, suddenly right in Sam’s face in that freaky fast way vampires had of moving.
Sam reared back and brought his head forward, head butting Maul’s mate as hard as he could manage, forehead to forehead. The vamp flew back and crashed into a metal table knocking everything off of its surface, glass and metal hitting the floor with a terrible crash. The vamp didn’t move, and for a moment, Sam was hoping he’d knocked him out on the first try. You never knew with vamps, how strong they’d be, or how prepared to fight they’d really be when things really got going.
The vamp was back up off the ground and right back in his face before Sam could even blink. Shit, so he was one of the strong ones then. He’d just have to deal.
“You absolute idiot, I am vampire. Your pathetic human fighting moves are not going to win the day,” the vamp said, hissing and showing his teeth in what he probably thought was a terrifying display.
Sam threw his head back and laughed even though the injury to the back of his skull and his forehead throbbed in time. He kept it going when he saw the hurt look on the idiot vamp’s face. Pouting just didn’t work with those horrible teeth.
“Sammy, what’re you doing?” Dean whispered.
“I can hear you, I can hear everything, every single thing. You forget at your peril that I am vampire,” the vamp said, sounding almost whiny.
“You’re a god-forsaken whiner is what you are, let us go and maybe we’ll let you live,” Sam said.
“No…no one is letting anyone go, and none of us will be living by time I am done. I am already there in that divine state of undead of course.”
“What the fuck are you even talking about? Why don’t you unchain me and I’ll show you how much of a divine state you’re in,” Sam offered.
“You have to decide, between you, who will be turned,” the vampire said with that cruel vampire certainty that always turned Sam’s stomach.
“Listen, Fang, we’re not interested in your games, this isn’t another stupid sequel to Saw or whatever,” Sam said.
“You have one hour to choose, and then I will return. One of you will be turned, other one devoured. Those are your options. Maul must be avenged.”
“I’m sorry about your friend, it was him or us, you know? Nothing personal, I’m sure you miss him,” Sam said, trying his best to sound empathetic instead of just pathetic.
“I do not accept your apology or sympathy, Maul was my mate. And I cannot move forward without debt to be paid. Your partnership will be ended and I will move on with balance put to rights.”
“Listen, it doesn’t have to be this way. There are a lot of vamps out there, they’ve learned how to not kill humans, to live with it and they’re happy,” Sam offered.
“They are not truly living, and of course neither am I. Becoming vampire is privilege, not curse. Maul was only one who understood.”
“What’s your name and how long have you been a vampire?” Sam asked, noticing the strange accent the guy had, almost Russian, something Slavic maybe?
“You are much nicer than other,” the vampire nodded at Dean’s unmoving form on the floor. “I am Bryce Vosmus, from what is now called, Murmansk Oblast, in far north of Russia.”
“Way up in the Arctic Circle, right? I’ve always wanted to go up there, see the Northern Lights,” Sam said, trying to keep him talking while he figured out how to get out of the chair.
“I am of Sámi people, most of us gone now, our lands polluted. Chernobyl, you know it of course, ruined our homeland. I was far away already, gone to university in Tromsö and never returned. I was lucky to be turned vampire.”
“I’ve only seen pictures, but that whole area has always been somewhere I’ve wanted to travel to, a bucket list kind of place.”
“My understanding is that bucket lists are to be accomplished before one dies,” Bryce said. “Or, if you are one who I will turn, then you can travel there at your leisure. Not ever dying has its own advantages as far as being able to keep traveling wherever you want to.”
“He’s not the one getting turned, Bryce-y Boy,” Dean growled from the floor.
“Oh, so you will be the one to be turned, mister mean one, oh joy of joys, another cranky vampire to join our family,” Bryce said. “Well, I leave it up to both of you. It should be a joint decision, no?” He quickly exited up a set of creaky wooden steps.
“Bryce, wait, he’s bleeding!” Sam called out as the door was about to be closed.
“Sam, I do already know of bleeding, I am vampire as you recall,” Bryce said. “If he is turned, then all will be fine. And if not, then he will be all the more enticing to a new vampire to feast upon.”
The wooden door slammed, and Sam could hear a series of metal clicks as locks and deadbolts were thrown.
“What was all that jawing about?” Dean grumped.
“Just trying to keep him talking so I could do this,” Sam said, finally getting the lock on one of the cuffs sprung. It had been hard to find, but one of the nails in the upholstery of the chair had been loose and it had been the perfect size to slip in the lock. He quickly picked open the other cuff as well as the ones on his ankles. He bent over Dean, working at the one on his collar.
“You okay?” Dean asked.
“Pretty sure I should be the one worried about you at the moment,” Sam said, trying not to notice how much blood surrounded Dean’s arm on the cement floor. He bent over to see the lock more clearly, his hair brushing Dean’s face.
“Your shoulder, he didn’t make it worse?” Dean asked.
“It’s not happy, but my bone isn’t sticking out of my forearm,” Sam said, regretting actually saying it out loud.
Dean’s eyes widened but he didn’t let himself look down at his own arm situation. “Love the way your hair smells, I ever tell you that, Sammy?” Dean’s uninjured hand found its way to the base of Sam’s skull pulling him down so he could brush his lips against Sam’s.
“Dean…c’mon, I need to get you loose before he comes back,” Sam said against Dean’s mouth. He pressed himself back up into position and got back to work on releasing Dean from the collar. Lock picking was harder only having one working hand and part of the use of another.
“Your hair, god, I just want to keep my face in it all day. Can I do that, Sammy, please?”
“You never say stuff like that, you’re probably going into shock or something, Dean. Conserve your energy until I can get us out of here, okay?”
Dean didn’t answer, and Sam could see he’d passed out again. From blood loss or shock or both, it didn’t matter, he needed to get this lock picked and his brother freed before the crazy vamp came back. He worked the nail harder into the lock, it slipped and gouged into the side of Dean’s neck, drawing blood. Thankful that it wasn’t an artery or something, Sam kept at it, the lock almost clicked open several times.
“Your hour has passed, what is your decision,” Bryce’s voice came out of the darkness.
How had he missed the door opening, all those locks had been so loud when they’d been closed. Maybe there was another entrance to this godforsaken basement?
“Is it you or him?” Bryce asked, right in Sam’s face.
Sam tried to think out the possibilities, without Dean conscious to argue with, it was a lot easier. If Dean was the one who got turned, his possibly life-threatening broken arm situation would presumably be fixed, and he was still contained by the collar. If Sam let Bryce turn him instead, then he knew that he could make himself leave before he hurt Dean, and take Bryce out immediately. There was also the Campbell vampire cure, so he knew there was a chance that it wasn’t forever. “Me, turn me.”
Bryce licked his lips slowly, eyes going half closed with the thought of getting his mouth on that delectable neck of Sam’s. He took Sam in his arms in a parody of an embrace and bent him backward until Sam’s head was resting in Dean’s lap.
Dean didn’t even react at the contact, apparently still unconscious, and Sam was glad that his brother didn’t have to see this happen. He knew it was the right choice in this moment, but choosing to become a monster again, he wasn’t sure Dean could forgive that.
Bryce bit down hard on the side of Sam’s neck, suckled briefly near the carotid artery, making all sorts of disgusting noises as he drank Sam’s blood, it was almost sexual sounding. Sam struggled not to push him away, it felt like an assault, reminding him of all the other times. The smell of the vampire was horrible, musty and old, like something that had needed an hour out in the sun for quite a while.
Bryce finally released his teeth’s hold on Sam’s neck and licked at the wound to seal it up. “You are the most beautiful, complex taste I’ve ever had, just exquisite.” He brought his own forearm up to his mouth and bit into the skin of his wrist over the main vein. He held his wrist to Sam’s mouth. “Drink deep, my Samuel. You and I, we will tear world apart.”
Sam swooned and lost himself to the blood trickling into his mouth, the power of it sweeping him away from anything but the raw pulsing copper taste. It was a surprise to have that all stop when the floor seemed to heave underneath him.
Dean was screaming, he could hear the chain from Dean’s collar clanking against the floor and Bryce struggled against him. Sam tried to sit up and help but he was lost to the flood of Bryce’s blood taking him over. He heard and felt the struggle end, something hit the floor and rolled. When he could smell more of his maker’s blood, his new fangs pushed through his gums as they descended for the first time.
Dean roared in pain and fury, “Sam, no!”
Sam felt his brother’s arm go around his neck and the steady pressure being applied as Dean screamed in pain. He had a moment where he wondered if a sleeper hold would even work on a vampire or not, but then he went back into the black.
***
Dean didn’t know how long he had wasted screaming in pain after putting Sam out, he also had no idea how long a sleeper hold knockout would keep a vampire out. He struggled to find the nail Sam had been using and gave up. A key, Bryce had to have a key on him somewhere. Dean went through all of his pockets and found it in the last one he could reach, every jolt to his arm causing him to nearly lose consciousness. He had to stay with it, otherwise Sam would…well he didn’t know what would happen when Sam woke up as a newly-turned vampire.
The key was hard to fit into the lock without the use of his right arm. He finally managed it, floating in and out of reality. The satisfying snick of the lock opening giving him a small flare of hope. His first thought was to get the collar fastened on Sam’s neck before he woke up, but the chain wouldn’t stretch that far.
Sam’s head was still resting in his lap, his beautiful hair spread out in a fan over his jeans, dark against the pale skin of his neck. Dean struggled just to push Bryce’s body off of him, screaming with the pain. The blood flowed again, and it was too much, he knew he was going to bleed out if he didn’t do something. He ripped the silk scarf off of Bryce’s neck and wound it tightly around his bicep until he could see the bleeding slow to a trickle. He tied the knot off with his teeth and good arm, hoping like hell that it would stay on.
Dean sat up and dragged himself and Sam a little closer to the metal pole the chain and collar was attached to. He almost had the collar around Sam’s neck, the key was in the lock when he heard Sam’s hiss. He turned the key, the lock engaged and Sam came at him, fangs out, suddenly the most terrifying thing he could possibly imagine, was real and right in his face. The power and strength of his brother, amped up to the max with vampire blood. This was not going to be a fair fight.
“Bryce, no! You killed him, you killed my maker!” Sam roared as he spotted Bryce’s head.
Dean rolled away from his brother the moment the weight of Sam’s body was no longer pinning him to the cement floor. It was agony, the tourniquet held but the broken bones moved with a sickening crunch.
Sam lunged at him, stopped only by the length of the chain. He scrabbled at the collar, hissing at the touch of the silver. Dean could see the skin of his neck bubbling up and then healing itself. “You can’t keep me like this! You asshole, let me go!” Sam screamed.
While Sam was busy screaming and carrying on, Dean took the belt off Bryce’s body, tugging it out through the belt loops. He removed the shirt as well, which was easy due to the absence of Bryce’s head. The soft shirt was a knit, maybe wool, it looked fairly clean, not like Dean had much of a choice. He pushed up the blood soaked sleeve of his jacket and finally had a look at the damage. One of his forearm bones jutted out of his skin, jagged and sharp, radius or ulna, it was one of those. He had to get his arm stabilized and splinted to be able to take on Sam.
Glancing around the room, his eyes landed on the mess that had come from the table being overturned, there were wooden stakes long enough to go from his elbow to his wrist. He used Bryce’s shirt to wrap around the wound a couple times, he knew that would help avoid infection if the open wound was covered. The stakes went under and on either side of his arm, Bryce’s belt secured them pretty well. He found the last of a roll of duct tape and used that too. Finally he could move without the intense pain. McGyver himself couldn’t have done a better job.
Sam was still screaming and struggling against the chain and collar that thankfully still had him contained. There was no way to get close to him to get another sleeper hold done, Dean couldn’t risk getting bitten or worse. There were some long-handled shovels in the corner. He grabbed one and whacked Sam in the back of the head, hoping that the one blow would do the trick. At least he knew that it wouldn’t kill him outright thanks to the vampire blood in his system. Sam folded like a cheap card table, hitting the floor, limbs splayed wide, his head thankfully having a soft landing on Bryce’s lap.
“Sammy?” Dean asked, coming closer, with a firm grip on the shovel. He poked at Sam and didn’t get a response.
***
To Part 2